


K3tog, K1

by Bouzingo



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anger Management, Avengers Tower, Fluff, Knitting, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Multi, OT4, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bouzingo/pseuds/Bouzingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky learns how to knit in the safety of Avengers Tower. Really just fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruce

The rage is familiar. Bruce has seen it, felt it. Seeing it in another person, however, is a totally different experience.

Bucky Barnes is the visualization of still water running deep. He sits in the corner of any given room he’s in, totally motionless. But Bruce looks at his eyes, and he can see fierce analysis that is second nature, and he can see the anger.

Anger that is totally justified. Beginning to understand the extent of how his body was used, how his personhood was violated, must be devastating. Bruce had difficulties not hulking out when some of the situation was disclosed to him in hushed tones. Bucky’s first weeks at the Tower were not pleasant, night terrors and screaming that transcended the languages he knows.

The nightmares are less now. It is possible Bucky is just capable of hiding them better.

Bruce has taken out his knitting without even realizing it. The Winter Soldier, bless him, seems a little thrown by this. He stands up from his defensible point in the corner, and walks over.

“What are you making?” he asks, so quietly that Bruce can’t hear him in the kitchen with the whisper-quiet appliances.

“Hat,” he says with a reassuring smile. “It’s getting cold.”

Bucky doesn’t pursue a conversation. He stands there, watching, analyzing. Then he sits down, metal hand clenching and unclenching in a way that Bruce realizes is an anxious tic.

“You want to learn how?” he says. Bucky nods, a spark of gratitude in his eyes.

“Hard to say,” he says, gesturing abstractly to his mouth. “Everything got fucked up.”

“I get it,” Bruce says wryly. “Why don’t I just get you some needles and yarn?”

Bucky’s a pretty quick study. Bruce is impressed. His gauge leaves something to be desired, just like all beginners, and his prosthesis gives him difficulty at first, but soon he has established a comfortable pace and is more relaxed, though the tenseness in his shoulders is still visible.

He disappears with the lent yarn and needles, and when Bruce next sees him a couple of days later, a wobbly but whole scarf is unceremoniously pushed into his hands and Bucky is gone before he can even say thank you.


	2. Natasha

Deprogramming can bring out a lot of surprising things in a person that was previously a weapon. Natasha is familiar with the eccentricities of someone who has only recently attained self-agency and has many new things to try.

Bucky has several new interests. He enjoys rock and roll, loves glittery hairclips that were made with the Hello Kitty set in mind, and he has a serious sweet tooth. He still doesn’t talk much, and the doctors say that probably won’t change in a hurry, but he reads voraciously and he knits. Does he ever knit.

He starts making her small gifts at first, a pair of black wristwarmers with sloppy ribbing, a modest toque to match. He leaves them in places she’s sure to find them. She wears them of course; the wristwarmers are convenient for a late night stakeout in the middle of February, and even if the toque doesn’t quite cover her ears it’s nice anyway.

The gifts get gradually bigger and more numerous, until at last she has to ask.

“Why do you keep knitting me things?” she asks during a late night at the Tower. Neither of them can sleep. Bucky has monopolized the television and is currently marathoning a mopey British mini-series while he works on a deep green sweater, his first. He sets his work down and cautiously looks at her.

“Wanted to say sorry,” he mutters. “Wasn’t sure how.”

He bites his lip like he wants to say more, but instead his eyes slip back to his show.

“For the record, you don’t have to apologize,” Natasha says. “I understand your situation, maybe more than others here.”

Bucky’s shoulders tense, and she hastens to continue.

“I really do like what you make me though,” she says. “It’s very kind of you.”

Bucky actually smiles, a ghost of a smile that takes residency in the corners of his mouth, and looks down at his work. Natasha doesn’t like mopey British mini-series, but she sits on the couch with him and steals a handful of his chocolate covered raisins.

They both fall asleep that way, with the television still on and Natasha’s new sweater still half-finished.


	3. Sam

“So, you and Natasha, huh?” Sam asks, only teasing a little. Bucky’s got a Charlie Brown smile on his face that he’s exceedingly bad at hiding and Sam’s not going to be the one to make it disappear. He is making a large circle scarf that covers his entire lap. It’s in his favourite colours, which at the moment is all of them. Sam is working on a sock; Bucky is a very good teacher.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly.

“What’s that like?” Sam chuckles. “She seems a little… intimidating.”

“Not to me,” Bucky says. “We’re sweet on each other.”

It’s actually not that hard to imagine. When Sam sees them together, he can see their obvious doting. Natasha always wears the green cabled sweater that Bucky made for her, and when Natasha styles Bucky’s hair he always keeps it that way. Steve was talking about how difficult it is to find someone with shared life experience; Bucky and Natasha have exactly that.

“You’re twisting your stitches again,” Bucky mutters, and reaches out to fix it. Their hands connect for a moment, and their eyes meet before Bucky looks down at the sock.

“Natasha likes you too,” Bucky says all of a sudden. “We were going to ask you together but she’s been busy and we couldn’t find a good time. So…”

He trails off like he does sometimes when he’s trying to choose words, his metal hand clenching and unclenching.

“We both like you a lot,” he says, handing Sam his sock back. “And we would lo… _like_ if you would be with us.”

“Is this like a one-time thing? Or were you two thinking something more permanent?” Sam says.

“It can be whatever you want it to be,” Bucky promises. “I know it’s not usual and if you want to…”

Sam kisses Bucky gently on the lips. When he pulls away Bucky touches his own mouth with that goofy grin, and it warms Sam to know that he put it there.

“I would love to,” Sam reassures, “wherever it takes us.”

“I’ll text Natasha,” Bucky says, delighted. “I don’t know if she has her phone on her in… wherever she is but she’ll be really pleased.”

Sam wonders, while he’s driving home from the Tower, what he’s gotten himself into. _Probably something wonderful_ , he thinks with a smile.


	4. Steve

Steve Rogers is never out of socks. Never unwelcome but always a surprise, he always finds a new pair in his sock drawer. Bucky is responsible, though maybe he tries to hide it. He doesn’t talk to Steve as much, even though they both live in the tower now. Then again they both have different missions these days, so maybe that has something to do with it.

When Steve asked Sam what it’s like dating Bucky and Natasha, Sam just smiled.

“I feel like I’m on the verge of a diabetic attack all the time,” he said. “And it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time. Why? Are you thinking of joining our unit?”

Steve had coughed and changed the subject.

Bucky certainly looks happy. Even if the nightmares haven’t stopped, and even if there are days where he isn’t Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, it’s better because he has someone. Or a couple of someones as the case happens to be.

And he knits socks for Steve. Steve doesn’t know what the socks mean, if they mean anything. He doesn’t know how Bucky gets into his room without tripping any of the Tower’s security measures, and neither does Stark.

And then one day he catches Bucky in his room, a pair of socks in his hand.

“Bucky,” he says. Bucky stops, and looks far guiltier than he ought. “Hey. I was just going to make some coffee.”

“That sounds good,” Bucky says.

Bucky from Steve’s time took his coffee black, maybe with a little milk if there was any. This Bucky pours in three sugars before he even considers tasting it.

“I haven’t talked to you because I remember more,” he finally says, after a sip. “And I thought you wouldn’t want to talk.”

Steve’s throat tightens, and he looks at Bucky.

“What do you remember?”

Bucky looks away.

“The socks are meant to be apologies,” he says. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember that we were…”

He bites his lip before he can say friends, comrades in arms, lovers.

“I didn’t know when I started dating Natasha and Sam,” he continues. “Sam told me you missed me. He doesn’t know either, does he?”

“It’s been seventy years,” Steve says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’d moved on.”

“The thing is that with the memories, I don’t know if moving on is what I wanted. What I want,” Bucky says. “I miss you too.”

“I don’t know what it is you’re asking me, Bucky,” Steve says. Bucky takes a long drink of his coffee.

“I don’t know either,” he says finally. “I wasn’t going to talk to you about it until I knew.”

There’s a long silence and it’s filled with coffee. Steve offers Bucky a cookie, who accepts.

“Why don’t you hash things out with Natasha and Sam,” Steve suggests. “You have them right now. They come first. If they’re all right with… I don’t know what you call it, I guess if they’re all right with one more, then I’m all right with it too.”

This is the longest conversation they’ve had since Bucky came to the Avengers Tower of his own accord, on the run from disenfranchised Hydra agents and unsure of who he was. And now Steve sees the same lack of certainty. He reaches his hand over the table and touches Bucky’s. Bucky looks up, a little disbelieving.

“I’ll wait,” he promises. “Thanks for the socks.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am emotional about Bucky Barnes. Come find me at bouzingo.tumblr.com


End file.
